My tears dry on their own
by m-is-for-MollyMansfieldMealing
Summary: Connie is still grieving over losing Grace to her father, and when a young girl similar to her is brought in, how will she react? One-shot :) x


**Just a little idea that came to be about an hour ago. It probably doesn't make much sense as I'm very tired, but ah well- what have I got to lose! **

**I hope you enjoy, and any reviews would be appreciated as per usual :D -Sophie x**

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It had been a long day for the staff in the ED. Connie's new regime meant they had a double shift that day, and Connie herself was due on the night shift too. She stifled a yawn as she clicked her way through to reception as Dixie and Ian burst through the doors.

"Ok Dixie what have we got?" She asked, joining the trolley as it was rolled into resus. Laid on the crisp, white sheets was a young girl of about 8 or 9, on her back with her eyes closed, skin almost as pale as the sheets she was laid on. Startlingly scarlet blood seeped from a wound to her chest, and as Connie looked down at the small figure, images of Grace kept flickering across the forefront of her eyes. She shook her head slightly and blinked a few times, before quickly checking no-one had noticed.

"This is Polly Lightfoot aged 9, involved in an RTC in which the driver fled the scene. Suspected damage to the heart, most likely a rip where the impact hit her. BP's rising and her pulse is already 180/90." Dixie reeled off, kicking the brakes on the trolley.

"Right let's get her on the bed please. On my count." Connie called, counting to three then hoisting the surprisingly light child onto the bed.

"Rita I need 4 units of blood cross matched please, and Robyn will you phone Darwin and see if they can spare a surgeon. She needs to get up there before it's too late." The woman muttered, moving to her bedside and gently lifting her eyelids so she could shine her torch over them. She stopped suddenly and let go, just as one of the machines began to bleep. Her eyes snapped up to the screen, to see her pulse rising rapidly, and she was thrown into action.

"Her pulse is too high and her left pupil's blown. Robyn, any luck?" She called over to the nurse who shook her head, before shouting "New theatre schedules!" and watching has the clinical lead rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

"Right, she's bleeding internally which needs to stop otherwise she's going to go into VF. Rita, go find Cal- ask him to prepare for an emergency procedure to relieve the pressure on her heart. Meanwhile Robyn, cut them off and fetch me 2 of Metoprolol please, quickly."

They scattered and left Connie with the girl. She looked down at her, biting her lower lip as images of Grace flooded her mind. They had the same hair colour; chocolate brown and as silky as a waterfall. Her face was thin and relaxed, and she had lips the colour of the palest pink roses.

The clinical lead felt her heart stir deep within her, and she smiled ever so slightly, just as another machine went off to alert her that she was now in VF.

"No, don't do this to me Polly." She whispered, her voice barely audible as she plugged in the defibrillator and pulled the step from underneath the bed. She stood on it and ripped the girl's top before beginning CPR with all her strength.

"30. Right, shocking!" She said loudly, placing the pads on her chest and watching as the electricity ran through her small frame, jolting her body up off the bed, then back down with a harsh thump. The movement made Connie jump slightly, though Rita and Robyn who now stood at the end of the bed, didn't seem to notice.

Another three rounds of CPR and shocks passed with no result, and Charlie, who'd been fetched by Robyn when she finally realised how passionate Connie seemed about this particular patient, took a step forwards.

"I think you should stop." He said slowly, holding an arm out to prevent her from doing anything else. She looked down at him, hair falling from her neat bun, and her face glistening with sweat. The woman tried to steady her breathing before speaking again.

"No, one more round." She said firmly, swallowing and placing her hands back on the little girl's chest. The senior nurse moved his arm gently so her clasped hands fell away from her body. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with one hand before crossing her arms.

"No. I refuse to give up on her."

"She's been in VF for 17 minutes now. You won't be able to revive her- she's gone." Charlie said quietly, watching as she bit her lower lip and looked down at her still body. Her eyes pricked with tears, and she blinked them back furiously as she turned to look away from her staff's watchful gaze.

"Listen, Connie, it's late- go up to the on-call room and get some rest." He said gently. The woman just shook her head before coming down from the step and walked towards the swinging doors, the back of her hand held to her mouth as tears full of emotion began to fall down her cheeks.

…

The room was dark, the door to her office firmly shut, and the blinds closed in an attempt to deter any visitors. The woman, now a sobbing wreck glued together by her duty, sat alone at her desk. All she could see, wherever she looked, were images of her baby girl, somewhere over in America. In some she was crying, in some she was lost, but in some she laid on a hospital bed, not unlike Polly's, and bled to death after the doctor gave up on her.

Connie shook her head and began to bite her nails, whole body trembling with impossible anxieties that seemed to plague her mind each waking minute of each waking hour. She took a deep raspy breath, it caught in her throat and she sat silent as she choked back a howl of anguish that was rising deep beneath her skin.

A knock at the door made her jump and she quickly grabbed some tissues and wiped at her face, before turning the other way when the door opened. The figure, silhouetted against the light outside stopped.

"I thought I told you to go to the on call room?"

It was Charlie, and Connie just looked up as she turned to face him, placing her head on a hand.

"Don't tell me what to do." She muttered, picking up a pencil with her free hand, and tapping it on the table repeatedly to mask the tremors running through her body.

A few footsteps later and a gentle hand took the pencil from her and laid it flat on her desk.

"I have a degree in mental health Connie. I know when someone isn't right. When they need someone there to help them dry the tears. There's no shame in needing help from time to time, and I wish you'd realise that before it gets too late." He said quietly, pausing in front of her desk before making his way over to the door. Connie just sighed and ran her hands through her now free and tousled hair.

"My tears dry on their own." She whispered, looking up at his illuminated face as her cheeks began to burn.

"They always have done. They always will."

Charlie looked at her, this mere shadow of a woman he once knew, and sighed slightly.

"You know where I am." He said quietly before leaving the room, with one last glance back to the emotional wreck that runs that department.

"I just wish you'd let me help you." His voice was barely audible as he shut the door with a click of finality, before walking away.


End file.
